IMPERFECTION
by Ifuonlyknewgrl
Summary: TWOSHOT! YES I ADDED A NEW AND LAST CHAPTER! Draco never knew the deep, dark secrets the frizzy haired mudblood kept to herself. Until he stole her diary. WARN!
1. Draco and

**--IMPERFECTION--**

**

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ONE-SHOT! It couldn't be: Hermione Granger, imperfect? She was Head Girl! A Gryffindor! Number one in Class! She was even pretty at times! Draco never knew, however, the deep, dark secrets the frizzy haired mudblood kept to herself…until he stole her diary. SELF-HARM & MENTIONING OF RAPE!

**AN:** AU to HBP.

...So I had to get this out. It was stuck in my head. It's depressing, but there's _a shine of hope at the end_. Possibly a cliche? Yes. A Good Read? Fuck Yes. Go read & Please review.

* * *

_If you could only see your heart belongs to me,  
I love you so much,  
I'm year__n__ing for your touch,  
Come and set me free,  
Forever yours I'll be,  
Won't you come and take this pain away_.

-K.C, "last night"

* * *

_September 1, 2006_

------Introduction_------ _

"What the hell is wrong with you Granger?" Silence. "Do you fucking _hear me_ Granger?" Again, his comment was met with silence. He crossed his arms against his chest and glared at her. "Are you fucking _deaf?"_

"I heard you," she muttered, tucking a brown lock behind her ear. She was staring at the ground.

"Good, because I'm not going to be taking up these fucking duties all by myself, do you _hear that_ Granger?" he growled. Hermione nodded. His superior look faltered a bit as he gave her a once-over. She had grown over the summer, standing about five feet, six inches, but she was thinner. Her brown hair looked a little dirtier than last year, and her nose, interestingly, was pierced. She looked like death on legs. "What the fuck is wrong with you this year, Granger?"

She brought her eyes up to his, but still she didn't say anything.

"Why aren't you speaking?" he asked angrily. "Huh, mudblood?" He thought that word would get her. He waited for anything: a slap, an embarrassing blush, a scowl…but he got nothing. He sighed. "Whatever, just be on time at your patrols, okay?" he pushed the parchment into her chest and walked away.

* * *

_October 31, 2006_

------Halloween Evening------

"YOU STUPID MUDBLOOD BITCH!" Draco roared.

Hermione Granger was flying down the hall when she had bumped into Draco, sending him sideways. She had stumbled, nearly falling to the ground herself, she quickly regained her posture and took off down the corridor once again. Her eyes were leaking with tears as she made her way to the Head Girl quarters. It was before dinner, and the halls were empty as students were heading down to eat.

"Fucking bitch," Draco muttered, straightening his robes and running a hand through his hair. He made sure it was perfectly in place, and glanced around to see if anyone had seen that horrible moment of complete humiliation of him falling. Seeing no one, he decided to head down to the Halloween feast.

-----

Having not seen Hermione at dinner, he disposed of Pansy, Goyle, Crabbe and Blaise in front of the Slytherin common room, and decided to venture to the library, knowing it would be closing soon for the night.

He questioned his sanity…why the _hell_ was he looking for Granger? It was Halloween, he should be out terrorizing the first-years, or shagging some impossibly hot girl from Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, but instead, he was looking for _ugly _Granger, who would not shag him, or let him terrorize her. But still, he had this feeling that he needed to find her, at least piss her off a bit…he would feel content. She was so prissy; he knew she would be in the library, studying to maintain her painfully _perfect_ grades. He had this image of Hermione Jane Granger illustrated in his head: she studied whenever possible, which meant always to be _perfectly_ prepared for class the next day; at night, she's maintaining her _perfect_ position as Head Girl and keeping peace within the Hogwarts student body; and, when she's not doing that, she's just sitting around being _perfect_, reading, and looking pretty.

Did he just think she looked _pretty?_

He definitely had to look for her. He had to embarrass her…he had to do _something_ to take his mind off of thinking these half-decent thoughts of her. He angrily opened the library door.

Hermione was there, as per usual, and sat at a table by her lone self, her eyes puffy, and her robe swung over the chair she was sitting in. Her Hogwarts sweater was on, and the sleeves were rolled down all the way and her frizzy hair was somewhat _tamed._ Draco thought about walking over and scaring her, when he had seen the little blue book sitting beside her chair innocently. He had smirked, and quietly stolen it without her knowing. Her name was printed across it in curly, silver letters. He right away knew it to be a muggle artifact—wizard diaries had anti-theft spells on them. Smiling to himself, he exited the library, Madame Pierce, the fox-looking hag, glared at his manic smiling form with distaste. He looked at his wizard watch as he left the library. His watch told him to "Relax a bit—twenty minutes!" before heading out to patrol duty. He smirked as he headed down by the Great Lake, wanting to enjoy the nice weather before winter came. He perched himself at the edge, and cracked open the Mudblood's diary.

_-----_

_June 15 _

_Dear Diary, _

_The black sky was disgusting today, and I just realized how very much I hate London's weather. One day, it could be brilliant sky, with white clouds and a baby blue background, and the next; it feels like the whole fucking world is falling apart on top of my umbrella. I hate the weather here so, so much. It added to my mood however that day, I suppose. I was completely bored. On a happier note, Donnie came home last week, he's grown so much, and he just turned twenty, too. Mum hates him, but Dad loves having him around, and he makes good company on boring evenings. I don't know why Dad won't let his little step-brother stay at the house more often. Mum and Dad fought over him again tonight. Donnie smokes too much pot. He was nice enough to keep it away from me though, so I didn't complain. I'm all about an individual's bodily rights._

_------ _

_June 21 _

_Dear Diary,_

_Fucking Ron called me fat._

_He's the fat arse!_

_But…maybe, I could use a diet. Just try it out._

_I mean, not because of him! But…it might be nice, a healthy choice._

_Oh Merlin, maybe I am fat, why else would he call me fat? Harry even had the audacity to snort. Was he calling me a pig too? I don't know, they're boys…shouldn't they notice my obesity more than anyone else? They're always around me…they would know. _

_Just a small diet…I could lose a stone._

_------ _

_July 1 _

_Dear Diary,_

_Donnie and I fought for the first time today._

_He told me to stop bragging over being made Head Girl._

_He thinks I go to a regular boarding school him being a muggle and all. I didn't mean to brag, I just got the letter today. It hasn't sunken in yet._

_------ _

_July 16 _

_Dear Diary,_

_He slapped me! That fucker slapped me, and then I punched him in the nose. I told my mum. He was kicked out for awhile, but Dad let him back in after he apologized. "You both need to stop acting like children," Dad said. Donnie has a black eye._

_------ _

_August 28 _

_Dear Diary,_

_Crookshanks RAN AWAY! MY BABY IS GONE! Donnie laughed at me and I told him to shut the fuck up. I hate him so much._

_------ _

_August 30 _

_Dear Diary,_

_Donnie…he…took advantage of me. Merlin, I can't even write the word. He…raped me. I was so weak. I did everything I could to fight him off; I couldn't even reach my wand to protect myself. He grabbed my arms and held them above my head. He told me it was my own fault. That I'm always trying to best him at everything, that my parents love me so much, and I rub it in his face. I did NO such thing! I told him this, but I did not beg for him to let me go. I continued fighting, until the very end…I wasn't going to let him get the satisfaction of hearing me cry. It hurt like hell, and I couldn't control the bleeding afterwards. When he left, he left for good. He told my parents he couldn't stay in the house with a "little slut like Hermione." My Dad…oh Merlin, he was so mad at me. I stood at the top of the stairs, my body turning inward in pain as I leaned against the banister. My Dad looked up at me, disbelief written on his face. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" he bellowed. He didn't see my tear-stained face, or the blood running down my legs and into my shoes. I didn't ask for him to, either. I didn't ask for his help when he was clearly accusing me of corrupting his step-brother. I just locked myself in my room, and sat in the tub. The water was so bloody, so filthy. The only word that I could think of was mudblood. I was mud. I was blood. I could feel myself breaking on the inside, I could feel my hopes, dreams, and aspirations flow out of me as I thought how ruined I was. How dirty I was. How weak I was. I might not have given him the satisfaction of seeing or hearing me cry when he was hurting me, but I was allowing for the tears to come now. _

_I tried to kill myself in the tub._

_I failed. I can't fail, I can't. I'm not supposed to be a failure! _

His hands began to shake. He had his suspicions…he had the feeling that Granger had some type of problem. She was quiet, and when he called her a mudblood, she didn't insult him back, or cut him off, she just took it. She was thinner…too thin. He had taken notice of the blossoming girl last year, realizing that she wasn't a skinny-thing, she had a body…but now…this year…she looked like she weighed under a hundred pounds…too thin for someone her height.

He was hell-bent on finding embarrassing entries to laugh at and later use against her. The first twenty entries were boring, but then the Donnie character was introduced, he realized that's when Hermione started to fade away, and this…this…_other_ girl came in. When he had read about her attack…he had dropped the diary, and thrown up on the grass beside him.

* * *

-----Her Hate & His Love-----

The corridor was dark, musty with the ancient smell of concrete, and was incredibly cold. She hated patrolling this late in the night, but she was a respectable student! Actually _the most_ respectable student at Hogwarts and regardless of her personal feeling she _had_ to do her job. She turned a corner, her dimly-lit wand slightly lifted to show her the way.

She had been having a day straight from hell. She was being reprimanded by her friends because of her "detached" attitude, Ron had asked her out (of which she declined) and Harry had accused her of hating them. She was feeling disgusted with herself. Night after night, she was plagued with nightmares, horrible nightmares of which she couldn't control. Each one replayed the incident with Donnie. How he had overpowered _her,_ Hermione Granger, number one in her class. How he had ripped _her_ apart, the Head Girl of Hogwarts. How he had made _her_ insane, little innocent Hermione…she had ran from Harry and Ron after they called her emotionless. She loved Harry and Ron, but when they were wrong, they were _so wrong_. They did not know _half_ of what she was feeling. She was far from emotionless. When escaping to her dorm, she had bumped into Draco, who swore at her. She was a little mudblood bitch, she knew that. She welcomed that.

_I _almost _did it this time_, she thought wistfully as she lifted her wand towards an empty painting. She almost killed herself. She felt her life leaving her body and she was giving in completely, when Ginny of all people barged into her common room, shouting for her. Hermione pulled herself together, albeit terribly. She healed herself, pulled her sleeves down, and exited her dorm, her face pale and her lips gaining back a little color. Ginny had smiled at her.

"You're late for patrol, dummy!" she said teasingly. Hermione, early in the year, had established some type of weird dependency-friendship with Ginny. They needed each other sometimes.

She didn't need her then, though.

So here she was, doing her duties. She heard a rustling noise behind her, like a robe that was sweeping the floor, and quickly turned the corner when she heard a voice.

"I didn't see you at dinner."

Hermione jumped, her hand flying to clench at her throat.

"Merlin fucking hell!" she cried, whirling around to see her very blonde and very _late_ Patrol Partner and fellow Head, Draco Malfoy.

"Language, Granger…" he drawled. Hermione fidgeted.

"You scared me Malfoy! I thought you were a demon of some sorts," she whispered, her voice cracking, like she had not used her vocal cords in ages. She did not notice Draco's surprised expression.

"Aren't you a little too old to believe in demons, Granger? Or are you some religious-freak?"

"Nay to both, Malfoy…just…stop talking to me!" she snapped, turning back around to continue down the corridor. Draco cleared his throat again.

"I said: I did not see you at dinner." She ignored him. "I'm talking to you!"

"What do you _want!?_" she screamed. Draco wanted to cry. Hermione was using her voice. She was fighting him back. A little bit of her old self was shining through. He pulled out her diary, and immediately she paled. "How did you get that?" she asked, deadpanned. She hadn't even notice it missing. Draco took in a deep breath,

"I stole it from you earlier today, while you were in the library." Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't know what to say…she didn't know how far he had read into it. "I read it all…" he answered her fear. She took a step back, shaking her head from side to side, and her body trembling.

"You'll tell everyone," she accused. "You'll tell everyone…" she cried. Draco grabbed her by the arms, pulling her towards him, the diary landing on the ground with a sickening thud. "NO!" she screamed. "NO! PLEASE!" As she began to cry, he pushed the sleeves of her robes up and then the sleeves of her school sweater. There, decorating both of her arms, were long, disgusting cut marks bunched together on her wrists. They were so vicious looking; it seemed as if she had cut for hours in the same spot. She tried to yank herself out of his grasp, ending up falling to her knees and pulling away from him. He knelt in front of her, bringing the tattered wrists to his lips and kissing both of them, one at a time.

"Why Hermione?" he asked.

"Why do you even _care?_" the disbelief was evident in her voice.

"You're supposed to be perfect, Granger, the epitome of perfection…" he whispered.

Hermione gave an empty laugh, "I'm not perfect Malfoy. I'm disgusting." He shook his head.

"Hermione, love, you're beautiful." She sobbed at his comment. "I'm so sorry," he pulled her into an embrace. "I'm sorry he did this to you."

"Don't—" Before she could decline his display of kindness, Draco had leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. He could taste her tears. He could taste her.

She opened her mouth under his for just the briefest of moments, yearning for his warm tongue, and soon found herself pushing him away. Her cheeks were on fire.

"Stop!" she cried. "Just _stop_…" she scrambled to her feet, taking a few steps away from Draco as he stared at her in shock from the floor. "You're trying to take advantage of me, aren't you? You see poor, helplessly raped Hermione and think—let me show her how to _love._ Is that what you wanted?" Draco's mouth slid open in astonishment as he saw the old Hermione shine through. The angry witch placed her hands on her hips and scowled. "Well _fuck you_ Malfoy! Only _you_ can get under my skin enough to make me feel so much _anger!_"

He tried to stop her, but she continued. "Merlin, Malfoy! That kiss was so—_gross!_" she stomped her foot.

He wanted to smile, but hid it as he stared up at her from the ground. He knew she had liked it.

"I hate you," she said venomously. Her cheeks turned a beet red. "I-I-I—really do!" she turned on her heel and continued down the corridor.

"I _need_ you," Draco said after her. He could have sworn he heard her gasp, but the bushy, bossy haired witch continued to walk away.

Little did he know, Hermione had a small, hopeful smile on her blushing face.

Draco knew with all his heart that he could help her through this. He was determined to save her from this pain that was so unjustifiably thrown at her. Hating him gave Hermione that energy to fight back and empower her life. She needed his hatred. He needed her love.

Why would he help her, one might ask?

She was too perfect in his eyes to be ignored. That's why.

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One shot. No future chapters and such. I can barely deal with the pile of stories I have to update now. But I thought this would be a nice one-shot to get out. 


	2. Hermione

**IMPERFECTIO****N**

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**THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER! I WILL ****NOT WRITE A SEQUEL! **

It's a two-shot, good enough for our lovely duo. If you want to read a funny DMHG story, please check out my _The Mudblood and the Ferret _story. It will be updated soon, since this is a long weekend. Thank you for reading _Imperfection _and I hope you all leave some thanks for me at the end…if you get what I mean! (:

**_WARNI__NG:_**** THIS CHAPTER IS I****NCREDIBLY GRAPHIC! YOU HAVE BEE****N WAR****NED!**

* * *

_All I said, I did__n't mea__n  
__The chill is strong and nothing seems  
To thaw the icy sentiment  
Of love that's gone once winter's spent_

_Cause nothing's worse than seeing you worse than me  
And nothing hurts like seeing you hurt like me  
The consequence is less than the happiness you bring to me  
There's more to give than what you take from me_

**-Au Revoir Simo****ne "Fallen Snow" **(Please check out their remix, located on Myspace. **The link is:** www. slash theteenagersremix)

* * *

She could see it: the thin, long black polished oak wood poking from under her pillow. She tried her hardest to reach it with the heavy weight on top of her, crushing her small bones and breaking her in half. She was biting down hard on her lower lip, her eyes focused on the thin piece of wood before her as it taunted and teased her helpless mind. Her legs were spread apart, and the modest yellow skirt she had been wearing earlier while reading in the small Green House out back was pushed up above her hips to expose her, rumpled and bloody. She had stopped fighting a while ago, and was now staring desperately at her wand. 

"Fucking whore."

She was jolted back to reality with that. He, noticing that she was not crying or squirming, brought his hands to her neck and squeezed tightly, hissing, "Scream, you bloody whore." She responded with a whimpering noise, the air escaping her lungs as it shivered and quaked for more air. She placed her small hands on his larger ones and tried to pull them away, fear consuming her as tiny black blotches began to distort her vision.

"No," she whimpered. "Why aren't you coming?" she pleaded in her mind. He laughed.

"How dirty of you Hermione! I told your dad you were a dirty whore."

In Hermione's mind, she wasn't asking him about his sexual release, she was asking herself why her magic wasn't coming to her aid. She had seen outbursts of magic when a person was extremely emotional, but for some reason her body was not allowing for the magic to course through her collapsing veins.

"_Because you're not a real witch, you're a muggleborn…see, you're not capable…"_ her belittling thoughts shouted back. Donnie had removed his hands when he saw a blue tinge enter Hermione's face. He lifted her legs higher, pushing into her deeper and stared down at her in astonishment. She wasn't crying at all. He buried his head in between her pleasantly-sized breasts and moaned.

It was over.

Thank God, it was over.

Hermione locked eyes with him, as she felt him welting inside of her. He growled at the blank look.

A loud clap split through the room, and Hermione felt the side of her face burn.

He had hit her.

"You fucking _bitch_," he hissed. "You tempted me, you _forced_ me to do this to you!" he pulled himself out of her, pushing himself off her bed, her soiled sheets glaring shamelessly back at him as he stuffed his penis into his trousers. "You wanted it as much as I did…with your small skirts and low cut shirts, you were teasing me Hermione, you're a bloody _tease._" He moved to pull her skirt down over her hips, only briefly painfully assaulting her down there. She flinched at the intrusion, but otherwise remained still. After righting her again, he yanked her off the bed, throwing her onto the floor. She shouted in fear, and was met with a kick in the side. She lifted her arms up to stop him, but his fists began to touch every spot imaginable on her body, purposefully avoiding her face.

"SPEAK YOU WHORE!"

_No_, her mind shouted firmly, _don't do it._

"SPEAK!"

"DONNIE! ARE YOU UP THERE?" shouted a voice. The Granger's were home.

"You shut your mouth…I'm leaving this place tonight, and it's your fault you dirty whore…" he hissed, pushing her beaten up body away from him. He grabbed the little stuff he had, and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

…

She allowed for the cool air to rush through her brown locks, her school sweater pulled off of her and wrapped tightly around her waist. She looked down and saw the Quidditch Pitch, twinkling green blades of grass like stars in the sky.

She wanted to end it; she just wanted to let it all go. The Astronomy Tower was the highest tower at Hogwarts, as she had read in _Hogwarts: A History_. It became the focus of many of her thoughts recently. She constantly told herself that if she jumped off, there would be no chance of survival, that she would die without complications, or awaking to find her self in immense pain, cracked in half and unmoving.

But then tonight, something had shifted in these thoughts. For once, she didn't automatically think about death. Instead, a pale, blonde and handsome face appeared before her. Soft pink lips parted to touch hers and she felt his hot, pleasant breath on her lips and the taste and feel of his velvety tongue searching hers out. Searching and tilting so far into her he could have drowned in her pain, in her fear, and in her hate. She had smiled. Something she hadn't done in months. He had caused that smile, and that familiar rush of blood to enter her cheeks in silly embarrassment.

Her hands were trembling, and slowly she moved away from the edge of the tower. Slowly, she pressed her back to the door that would be her exit from the tower's Observing roof. Gradually, she took in a deep breath, her body aching and tingling to just sprint across the short distance between the door and the edge of the tower and just fly off, to just fly away from all these problems and technicalities. But her mind began to race with images of Malfoy's soft lips pressing against her failures—her thin dark pink lines of pain and torture, reminding her that she was absolutely worthless. She moved away from the door, and instead sat very close to the edge, curling her legs under her as she buried her face into her hands and cried.

The door opened behind her, and she knew it was him. She knew he had found her fleeing form after their kiss. "Leave me alone."

"I can't do that," he responded softly, sitting beside her and staring out at the Hogwarts grounds. "I know now, and I want to help you."

"You hate me. You should be pushing me off this tower yourself, Malfoy," she muttered, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her Oxford shirt.

"Granger," he growled. She waited. She waited for him to hit her because of her sheer stupidity and stubbornness. She waited for him to push her onto her back, pull her knickers off and enter her brutally and mercilessly. She tensed. Instead, he pushed a lock of her hair from out of her tear-stained face. "Just let me take care of you," he continued his voice soft and pleading.

"You can't help me," she firmly responded. "I don't need help, and I don't need someone to take care…of me," she said shakily. "I want to be in control!" she shouted. "I want to be in control, damn it!" she screamed, her voice echoing across the grounds like a haunting cry. Draco recoiled from her, his eyes wide. She turned to him, her own eyes wide and wild. It felt good to scream.

_Whore._

She crumpled into tears once again.

_Speak, whore._

Draco touched her shoulder, the weight of his hand like a burden on her chest. She pulled away from him.

"Just…don't," she somehow managed to say. Draco removed his hand. "After six years and some odd months, you've decided that the animosity between the two of us should suddenly disappear? Well, I'm sorry Malfoy…that can't happen, and it never will," she said sadly.

"Hermione—"

"Please!" she snapped, standing up and walking to the edge. She could feel the tension between them filter the air like a thick fog of smoke. She stood so very close to the edge, and felt the wind ripple her clothes, as if she was flying. She spread her arms wide.

"What are you—?"

She cut him off, "To think that _you_, Malfoy, would find out the pain in my heart. To find out the worst about me and gloat over the advantages you can have over this…perpetually suicidal situation of mine." She turned and stared deeply at him

"I want to help you."

"You can't help me," she muttered. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with me."

"Hermione—_Granger_—just listen to me! If…If you just give me one day, one miniscule day to show you I care, I promise that you won't regret it. I won't take advantage of this situation or you for that matter, in any way. Please, just…step away from the edge. I know things have been completely fucked for you, but things can get better, I know they can, I know they can because I've been there before, Granger. I've felt pain before, pain and humiliation. I've turned to reckless behavior and endured the consequences afterwards. I know I can help you, if you just _let me._"

…

She slipped into the tub, the water feeling like fire on her porcelain-colored skin. Her usual bright honey eyes were a dull brown as streams of blood floated through the clear water that filled the tub. She began to scrub herself dry with what could have been scentless soap for all she cared. Red patches could be seen around the bruises that covered her body. She was covered in bruises. So many bruises.

Her dad liked to keep razors around in the bathroom, mostly as a shaving tool when he wanted to get just the right shape for his then-beard or then-moustache. She had pulled it out of the cabinet, the metal packed in thin, soft white paper to protect the person from the extremely shape sides. Hermione held it to her wrists, and raked it across them, causing an unnaturally wide wound to open and sprout blood into the already-soiled water. She fell back against the tub, wincing slightly as her head slammed against the back. Slowly, she slid into the tub, her head ever so slightly becoming immersed in the water. She felt her life leaving her body, and tears began to prickle from behind her eyelids.

…

"Let me help you Hermione," Draco whispered, his breath touching the back of her neck.

_When did he get so close?_ She asked herself. It was frightening, but she didn't move away from him, she only looked ahead out into the sprinkling Quidditch pitch, her mind shouting just _why_ she detested flying.

"I said, there's nothing wrong with me," she said dismissively. Hermione lifted on foot from the edge, and moved forward, anticipating her fall from the tower. Although, before she could even feel the gush of hair hit her brown curls once again, Draco Malfoy had wrapped his arms around her body, spinning her away from the edge and pushing her towards the exit. She fell to the ground, her bare knees scraping against the hard ground and snapped her head around to see that Draco was not standing behind her.

He had fallen.

He had fallen trying to save _her._

She released a shocking gasp, followed quickly with a choking sob as she crawled away from the edge of the tower, pressing her back against the door to the tower. Biting down on her lip, she prevented herself from screaming aloud.

_He was trying to help you! _Her voice shouted. Fear spinning wildly in her stomach, she slowly made her way back to the edge, panicky tears falling from her pale face. As she crept closer, she saw a pale hand gripping the tower's railing and screamed.

Draco was holding onto the rail for his dear life, his face deathly void of any color as he took in a shaking breath and tried to calm the crying girl before him.

"Granger…just relax, okay?" Draco said firmly. Hermione would have laughed if it wasn't such a dire situation. Draco Malfoy, who was about to fall to his untimely death, was telling _her_ to calm down. She nodded and tried to reach for his hand. "No! That's not good; I'm too heavy for that. You'll have to levitate me…" he said. Hermione nodded. She pulled out her wand from the sleeve of her shirt and carefully levitated Draco beside her. When he was safely sitting side her, she threw her arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry Malfoy," she whimpered. Draco wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her wild hair as his heart beat slowed down and allowed to recoup from his near-death experience. She was shivering and Draco held her tighter. "You could've died!" she gasped. "It would have been my entire fault." She drew in a breath and pulled away from him, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her shirt, realizing that Draco's hands were badly shaking, making his white sleeves fall back slightly to expose two deep dark pink gashes. They were so deep Hermione was sure he would have felt bone beyond the flesh.

"You?" Hermione questioned, grabbing Draco's wrist and pulling it so she could see it better. He tried to pull his arm back, but gave up and allowed Hermione to inspect it.

"Just once. Meant to kill…" Draco said softly. "I did die, for a whole seventeen minutes. My Mother found me locked away in our cellar, called a Healer and they worked on me for the entire time."

"But…" Hermione swallowed. "But _why_ Malfoy?"

"In order to get rid of the Dark Mark, you have to die…I wanted to die because I knew that even though my father was gone, I still had a daily reminder that I was him. That I was _his_," he said, his voice filled with disgust yet cracking with emotion. Hermione nodded. She had heard rumors that when Draco's dad was incarcerated once again, that he was pushed to join Voldemort. "I didn't want to live knowing that I would have this hideous thing on me, taunting me and making me a lowly servant. I accepted the fact that I had to die to be free. But when I came back, I realized that the Mark was gone. I was born twice, freed…I had a choice. That choice was to live."

"Malfoy…" she started, shaking her head.

"Just let me help you Hermione. I know you can overcome what's happened…"

"You can help me Malfoy, but I don't think it'll be much good. I'm so far gone, I can't think of recovering…"

"You can, Hermione. Love can conquer all obstacles, and I know this."

"I don't know how to love," Hermione said, a small frown filtering her lips. Draco grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly as he looked into her eyes.

"You can learn. I need you, okay?" Draco bent his head low, avoiding Hermione's questioning gaze. He still held tightly to her hand. "I might've called you a Mudblood, hell, I might still hate you…but…I need you…I _need_ you, Hermione."

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because, you're the only thing that creates that fire in my chest, a fire that keeps me awake…keeps my head afloat. I seek you out all the time. Sometimes I don't even know why I'm looking for you, but I find you and just looking at you fuels that fire in my chest. Without you…I'm nothing. Just a speck on a clear-glass window. Useless and filthy." Draco lifted his other hand to place it on Hermione's wet cheek, caressing it softly as she stared heavily at the ground. His hand slid to her pointed chin, and lifted it, making her meet his gaze. "We can live for one another…"

"But what if you hurt me?" she cried. "What if you hurt me like he did?"

"I will NEVER hurt you Hermione."

"But how do I know that? How do I know if you'll never turn against me?" she wept. Draco couldn't take it any longer; he moved his hands from her and instead entwined them around her body, hugging her close to his chest. She fell in to his lap, extremely stiff at their sudden position. She relaxed, however, when she felt his chin rest atop her head. She felt protected, safe.

Her hand curled around his upper arm as she clung to him. Draco had his eyes closed shut.

She was so small in his arms, and it felt…wrong. Hermione Granger was not a weak person. She was not imperfect. She was supposed to be powerful…important…a Gryffindor. She had so many expectations to live up to. He was not ashamed of admitting what had kept him alive this past year. She was the source, however much he tried to convince himself otherwise. He always felt content around her. Beyond his sneers and name-calling, he had felt something for her. He had felt the need to protect and survive around her. He knew that Hermione Granger, proud Gryffindor, would be once more again.

He held her tighter.

Hermione lifted her head to peer into his eyes and that was when he felt her lips brush against his, and with a quiet thank you, she rested her head back on his chest.

It was the start of something beautiful.

A step forward onto a perfect path.

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